Western Kansas world. [volume] (WaKeeney, Kan.) 1885-current, 1887-07-16


A short time afterward Barton and his wife
were found dead in this very room. Al
| they were scalped, it was, Of course, the
| work of the aven ing Yumas."
/ Where was the daughter OF whom yor
| spoke?" asked, strangely Interested.
| "No trace of her has ever been discov-
ered," replied Dan. II suppose she ha:
| long since become the unhappy squaw o.
| some chief. Poor little Dolores! she was
a sweet child, about fourteen years Of age
/ pity her."
"Why is the place said to be haunted?'
| was my next question; but my lips were
forming the sweet name Dolores. Do
| 1nras I"
1.-THE Indians say that they can see bright
! lights here" continued Dan, evidently
! wishing to bring the story to close; "that
| boat, containing two figures clad in white
| comes down the river each night; that JUS
| at twelve it strikes the shore even with this
house; the two ghostly boatmen-one is 9
female-glide into this room. and nothing
more is seen of them until the next night
when they again come down the river. The
Indians believe this, for not the boldes'
Yuma, Hualapai, or Apache brave will re-
main here over night, although he would
scorn to avoid real danger presented In any
other form"
Dan was sleeping soundly in his blanket
over in one corner Of the apartment, but
can not say how long lay gazing at the
stars through the apertures in the roof, and
thinking. was sure that Dan had not told
me all that he knew about the tragedy. In
fact, I was beginning to regard my friend
in newlight. His piercing steel blue eyes
at times almost terrified me, for as yet !
knew not their wonderful secret. After q
long while, turning SO that could look
the moonlit river, / saw q boat coming
down the stream. directly toward the land
ing where our canoe lay. In this boat
were two persons clothed in flowing white
drapery. They sat erect, but made no eff
fort to control their craft. gazed intent
ly; it had no oars; that boat was steered
and rowed by no mortal hand. looked at
my watch. 1t lacked but a moment of II
o'clock, Pacific standard time. The phan-
tom boat touched the shore q short dis
lance from me; its occupants stepped
lightly upon the groano anc, Win noise
less, gliding motion, approached within a
few feet of me and stopped. I lay utterly
spell-bound. 1 could not articulate q syl-
liable. The ghostly old lady was the first
to break the silence, saying in q kind,
motherly voice:
@Are you not frightened, young man, to
meet us here at this lonely hour?"
My fears vanished beneath the light of
her affectionate old eyes, and I assured her
l had never been so badly scared in all my
life since the day Diego Dan exterminated
my friend, the editor, on which occasion
had let fall form comprising one page of
tho y,ooIfnc q hr,Shn1 of nj
"Your fears are groundless, she replied,
with ghostly, puzzled look on her kindly,
wrinkled face. "Of all the world we can
visit this spot alone. We are glad to meet
you. Are you good MANI"
My fears were all gone now. told them
the story of my past life, with my hopes
for the future, and left it with her to decide
as to my goodness. then asked her if the
murder spoken of by Dan had been COM
mitted by Indians.
I'VE were cruelty murdered in the dark
ness Of the midnight, the ghost replied
with shudder. There were Indians
who sought revenge on my husband, and
bad white men who only wanted our Elon-
ey." Diego Dan moved restlessly here, but
the pale, white-robed spirit continued:
"Our little Dolores was carried away by the
savages. It is of her would speak. We
want her. She is yet with the Indians,
and unframed; but it will not long be SO,
unless you go to her aid-one week from
this she will be made the unwilling wife of
q young chief, You will meet her before
that time. Rescue her and carry her away
to your own people. Be brave. You will
face great danger successfully. Should
Dolores not be spared to you she will come
TO us. We want her."
II will! will Your Dolores shall be
free and become my Dolores, or will sac
rifce my life for her dear sake, vowed.
"Look out, young man, or you will kick
over the coffee-pot," cried Dan with
laugh that banished the ghosts and opened
my eyes to the dazzling sunlight.
We ate breakfast and resumed the voy-
age.
Tonight" said Dan, 1--WE could reach
our destination. but we will stop over with
q very particular old friend of mine and go
On tomorrow"
About three o'clock in the afternoon we
reached the camp Of Dams great friend.
The Coyote" was known throughout all
The West as the deadly hater Of all pale
faces. No white man, it was said, had ev-.
Or looked upon his face and lived. Yet
Diego Dan was met at the waters edge by
The great Coyote in person and warmly well
coined to his tent. As Dams friend I was
also kindly received.
Diego and the Apache chieftain were
soon smoking and conversing earnestly in |
the language of the chief, of which could |
not understand word. From their gest-
ures, however, I shrewdly guessed they
were deciding the fate Of an important cap
live held by the Coyote.
That night Dan and I slept on pile of
buffalo robes in the chiefs tent. arose
early the next morning and started for q |
walk along the river. had not gone far |
when, in endeavoring to pass between one |
Of the tents and the liver bank, the space |
being very narrow, I stumbled and fell |
against the tent, crushing in the |
side and falling across some one who was |
ying down. Forgetting that my words |
would not be understood, hastily begged
pardon.
"Hush, don't speak, was the unexpected
,eply, as female arose, and by the faint |
light saw the most beautiful picture my
Eyes had ever rested upon. She asked me
low came there